


all i think about is...

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, and jeonghan is equally as smitten, basically: they r gay, by seasons i mean winter fall etc, idk seasons au?, jihoon sees jeonghan like once (1) and is basically smitten that’s the plot, that’s what it centers around anyways like there’s a lot of mention of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Seasons change, and so do Jihoon’s feelings.





	all i think about is...

**Author's Note:**

> hi i’m very unhappy with some of this but very happy with other parts idk man just enjoy (if u can)

Jihoon had never been one for love. 

Which was part of the reason he was so economically successful—he pretended to be cynical so it drove away any possibility of romantic distraction. It was a bit ironic, considering Jihoon’s profession involved him slumped over his desk at four in the morning, hand cramped and head spinning because of all of the love lyrics he had to write. But that was fine. He ran off of imagination and wild daydreams, and it worked out pretty well. Perhaps there was something inherently romantic about writing love songs when you, yourself have never been in love. Whatever. Jihoon digresses.

They met on a snowy evening. The snow was spilling lazily from the clouds, a slow falling of diamonds from the sky. A beautiful evening. Snowflakes stuck to Jihoon’s sleeves as he walked carefully down the ice-lined road, and he watched as they melted and left crystal streaks down his arms. A beautiful evening.

He was minding his own business, humming a catchy little jingle he had conjured up during his walk. He clutched a rough paper bag in his fingers, filled with steaming coffee. Or maybe it was hot chocolate, Jihoon can’t remember anymore. The thick scent of the drink wafted gently through the air, and he felt his mouth watering ever so slightly. Paired with the steady drops of snow, Jihoon felt somewhat in a dream. Snow wasn’t supposed to be this gentle, it seemed surreal. 

The way they met felt like it was meant for a dream, too. Or maybe a romance novel, or one of those cheesy Valentine’s Day movies that were, oddly enough, Jihoon’s guilty pleasure. 

One minute he was walking, focused on putting one foot in front of the other as the snow swirled around him. And the next, Jihoon was crashing violently into the ground, face hitting the ice with a loud smack. The ground beneath him cut roughly into his cheek, and he accidentally tasted some of the ice, cringing as he felt a heavy weight lift off of him. 

Jihoon didn’t get up for a while. The cold underneath him seemed to seep swiftly into his bones, causing lethargy to cloud his head. The dizziness made him nearly close his eyes, too, if the mysterious force that knocked into him hadn’t suddenly grabbed hold of his hands and pulled him upright. 

Jihoon was greeted with the sight of pink. 

The man standing in front of him was, if he had to describe it, pink. This didn’t really make sense, considering the man wasn’t wearing a trace of the color. But Jihoon’s head was pounding viciously, thoughts swirling about in his mind making absolutely no sense, and that’s what his brain supplied him with as a description. 

It probably had to do with the guy’s lips, Jihoon thought, a cherry sort of color. His cheeks were dusted with a peachy tone, his nose reminiscent of Rudolph. He looked like he held the aura of someone arrogant, but the way he was averting his eyes from Jihoon differed vastly from  
these expectations. Jihoon stood there for a moment, head cocked to the side, squinting at this pink stranger and watching the snowflakes get briefly tangled in his hair. 

The man spoke softly, in a tone that was quiet and melodic. It was definitely the voice Jihoon thought would fit someone this pretty.

“Hey… You okay?” 

Three words, stuttered out somewhat awkwardly. The air condensed while he spoke, creating small puffs of white that lingered in the air for barely a second before fading away. It made Jihoon feel weird. 

He just nodded briefly, although his legs were still aching and his face still throbbing lightly. The stranger blinked at him.

“Are you sure?” 

Jihoon stared, raising his eyebrows just the slightest. Why did this guy care so much? Boys as pretty as him weren’t supposed to be this nice. He nodded again. The wind blew harshly around the pair of them, yet was strangely quiet in the spaces between the two. 

It looked as if the stranger was about to say something more, but Jihoon was running late for work at this point, and felt slightly annoyed on top of that. Stupid boys with their stupid pink looks and stupid kind words. Or something like that.

So wordlessly, Jihoon fumbled around the rough sidewalk for his paper bag that had been flung away from him during his fall. He picked it up, wincing slightly at the hot liquid seeping through the bag, having evidently spilled. A whole five dollars wasted, ruined. Gingerly pinching the top of it with his thumb and forefinger, he quickly walked past the mysterious man. The wind ruffled Jihoon’s hair, pushing it back against his forehead, probably making him look like a fool next to this angel of a man. But Jihoon ignored it, walking swiftly along the crunchy ice pathway. 

Just like that, he walked away from the stranger and out of the dream. 

**

Back at his studio, Jihoon scowled at the snow that was now pouring heavily from the sky. No longer was it soft and gentle, now it would be impossible to leave for home for at least another few hours. He bitterly closed his notebook with a sigh, the crackling pages fluttering closed. 

Stretching out his fingers, Jihoon’s mind flew back to the day’s earlier event. Had it even been real? Maybe some angel had drifted down from heaven to pay a visit to the first unsuspecting human it saw. 

Impossible. The man had talked so awkwardly that it was impossible to entertain that idea. Impossible. Jihoon hummed in the back of his throat, watching as the piles of snow outside his studio grew larger and larger. The sky was darkening now, the glaring yellow-light lamp on his desk being the only source of brightness. 

He picked his pen back up, brushing his other hand across the cover of his notebook. He debated opening it back up, because while he was stuck here, he might as well get some work done. But he didn’t toy with the idea for long, letting his eyes drift back to the window in front of him. The snow was still coming down hard, but Jihoon was starting to think that maybe it was pretty in a way. The snowflakes danced together, intertwining with each other briefly, before melting away in just an instant. They were beautiful, but they were only visible for perhaps a moment. Such is the price of beauty—it never lasts for long.

And then his thoughts flashed back to the pink stranger from earlier, and Jihoon curled his fingers tighter around his pen. Slowly, carefully, he peeled a sticky note off of his notepad, and placed it on the desk in front of him. 

He had a brilliant idea for a song.

 

**

The next time they met, it was almost a full six months later, the beginnings of a sticky sweet summer starting to seep through everyone’s skin. Jihoon remembers his shirt sticking to his back, damp with sweat, as he worked outside in the studio gardens. His manager had kicked him out again, because he needed some idols to come in and record.

It had totally killed Jihoon’s flow, and he was angrily trying to recover the remnants of “genius” he had been scribbling down earlier. Normally, he easily forgot about his surroundings when he wrote, letting his words and ideas engulf him in a sort of haze. But now, the outside was all too evident to him. The sun was glaring down on the back of his neck, the heaviness of the air was sticking to his skin like honey, the sweat was dripping down from his forehead onto the pages with a steady one-two beat, and Jihoon was seriously considering using his pen to stab himself in the eyeball. A fly buzzed annoyingly close to his ear, and he frantically swatted at the air to get it as far away from him as possible. He didn’t succeed, the fly still dancing in next to his ear in some sort of dumb fly ballet. Groaning with frustration, he angrily ran a hand through his bangs, cringing as his hand got soaked with sweat as a result. Gross.

This time, the experience was more fever dreamish than anything.

“Hey!”

A voice shook Jihoon out of his anger-induced stupor, nearly falling off of his chair in surprise. He glanced around, searching for the culprit amongst the lush, green leaves and steamy, dark trees. He spotted a swoosh of dark hair a second later, then saw a face coming into view. Odd. It had blended in just as a flower would have. Shoving the plants aside, a man emerged from the hot summer like an apparition. 

Jihoon sucked in a sharp breath, as aforementioned man wiped the back of his neck. Not just any man. It was the pink stranger, from the evening of oddly gentle snow and oddly gentle feelings. 

It was appropriate in this situation to stare, Jihoon figured, taking into account the fact that this man emerged from the gardens in such an awkward way. And so, he stared. The man’s lips were still pink, lush petals against smooth, pale skin. His cheeks were flushed and shiny, his hair damp and pressed up against his forehead. When he locked eyes with Jihoon, Jihoon felt that they emitted warmth. Pink. It made him feel woozy. More warmth was not what he needed right now. 

Jihoon stared back at the stranger, neither of them speaking. A bird chirped somewhere in the background, singing a happy summer song. A bead of sweat rolled down Jihoon’s cheek, but he ignored it to admire the way the light dappled across the man’s face. The man was sweating, too, but it looked more like dew than sweat. Figured, a pretty man would look pretty always.

The man cleared his throat lightly, running a hand through his bangs. Jihoon continued to stare. Did the stranger recognize him? 

“Sorry… but where is the recording studio located?” Soft, like windchimes swaying in a lazy breeze. 

Jihoon tore his gaze away from the stranger, spell broken, motioning towards the direction of studio entrance. He pretended not to notice the disappointment of not being recognized taking root in the bottom of his stomach. 

“That way.” 

The man blinked once, then twice. The sunlight got caught in his eyelashes, and Jihoon felt his breath hitch suddenly in his throat. Another drop of sweat carved a pathway down his temple. 

“Is it… okay if you show me?” 

He smiled at Jihoon nervously. A delicate smile. It was refreshing, more cooling to the eyes than warming. Blue. 

When Jihoon didn’t respond for a while, waiting for the right thing to say, the man spoke again. 

“Sorry, it’s just… I tend to get lost easily.” He reached up and scratched his neck awkwardly, sun glinting off of his skin. The bird began chirping again, and Jihoon felt dizzy.

Jihoon just nodded, and turned in the direction of the studio. He heart the stranger follow him, footsteps making light noises across the pathway. They walked across the cobblestone, the sun beating mercilessly against Jihoon’s back. He pinched the front of his shirt and pulled it away from his body. Sticky. He tried to imagine he was pulling away the weird hold the mystery man had on him, as he fanned himself lightly with his shirt. 

It was a silent walk, one that really wasn’t silent, but felt rather like it because neither of them were talking. Their feet made pitter-patter sounds on the cobblestone beneath them, and the birds were still singing, albeit more off-key. Jihoon felt so hot he feared he might pass out, the thoughts in his mind turning sluggishly as he led the other man to the studio. He wondered why the man was there. Was he an idol? It wouldn’t surprise him, with a face so pretty and a voice like silk.

They reached the door after what seemed like forever, Jihoon grabbing the handle and quickly pulling the door open. Cold air washed over him as he stepped inside, melting into his skin. It seemed to swirl away all of the incredulous thoughts running through his mind, and Jihoon beckoned the stranger towards the front desk. 

Perched on a swiveling chair, lazily turning back and forth, the desk manager Soonyoung was nearly falling asleep in his seat. His eyes were half-closed, head propped on his hand, and mouth slightly open. 

Jihoon slammed his hand roughly on the desk in front of him, effectively waking Soonyoung, who jumped in his seat and let out a small shriek.

“Jihoon, what the _fuck?_ ” He hissed, shooting him a scowl.

Jihoon, who was wiping the last remnants of sweat off of the back of his neck, didn’t bat an eye. He just gestured to the man beside him. 

“This guy says he needs to go to the recording studio.” He said.

He felt the man’s stare boring into his side profile, and Jihoon felt indescribably pink. He kind of just wanted this whole ordeal over with, so he could go back to the overly warm garden, mope about his song lyrics, and push all thoughts of this guy out of his mind.

Soonyoung turned to the man, eyes immediately widening. Jihoon saw the recognition flash across his face, and he found himself wondering again, who this man was. 

“Oh my goodness, sir, I’m so sorry!” Soonyoung’s voice went up in pitch, and he began frantically searching through papers.

The cold air was beginning to feel just a little suffocating, as Soonyoung pulled out a sheet from the messy stack, and proudly put it on the table in front of him.

“Yoon Jeonghan, right?” Soonyoung asked brightly. 

Jihoon snuck a glance beside him, where the man—Jeonghan—was waiting, with a small smile on his lips. Jihoon’s eyes made their way down the curve of Jeonghan’s forehead, then the slope of his nose, and then the cherry bumps of his lips. He was most definitely an idol, if he was this pretty and in the recording studio.

Yoon Jeonghan. A pretty name for a beautiful man. 

And then Soonyoung was leading Jeonghan off, and Jihoon was starting to feel all warm inside again. It was like the sun was coming back, even though he was inside away from it. 

“Hey, thank you!” Jeonghan twisted around in Soonyoung’s grasp, giving Jihoon a wide grin and a wave. “It was nice to see you again!”

Again.

_Again._

Jihoon turned around and practically sprinted to the gardens, ignoring the unforgiving sun’s rays spilling across his skin. He no longer felt uninspired.

**

The next time they meet felt real, not like a dream at all. It’s only a week later, in the most mundane setting possible: work.

Jihoon was sitting in the studio, scribbling down a melody that he was slowly working on. Simultaneously, he was scolding Mingyu for bailing on having dinner with him last night, when he heard the soft jingle of the door opening. Jihoon didn’t bother looking up, focused on the scratching of his pencil against paper, and pressed down a couple keys of the piano to check his melody. 

He only lifted his head when he heard Mingyu break off his stream of whining, to say “Hey, Jeonghan!”

Sure enough, the pink stranger was standing there in all of his pink stranger glory. Jeonghan was wearing a long grey coat despite the summer heat, one that fit well with his soft hair falling into gentle waves across his face. The sleeves appeared to be just a little bit too long, hanging delicately over his dangling fingers. Sitting on top of his nose was a pair of circular glasses, and when his eyes briefly met Jihoon’s, he was hit with the usual wave of pink. 

“Hey, Mingyu!” Jeonghan said, smiling fondly at the younger. “Are you ready?”

Jihoon, not wanting to intrude in their conversation, turned back to his piano. 

“Yeah!” Mingyu chirped. “Jihoon, do you want to come?” 

“What?” Jihoon said distractedly, fumbling with the keys on his piano a little bit. He accidentally played the wrong chord in his haste. 

“Mingyu and I are going to lunch. Want to join?” Jeonghan’s voice. Jihoon, caught up in his own musical daze, wondered what Jeonghan sounded like while singing. 

When Jihoon didn’t respond, mostly out of sheer nerves, Jeonghan spoke up again, a bit more nervously. 

“I owe you, for…” He trailed off suddenly, and Jihoon looked up to see a light pink making its way across Jeonghan’s cheeks. Jihoon felt like if Jeonghan kept this up, that his own cheeks would begin to mirror Jeonghan’s. 

Jihoon put his down pen. “For?”

“For bumping into you, that one time.” Jeonghan mumbled a bit, biting his lips. Magenta fogged Jihoon’s vision.

“Wait, whaaat.” Mingyu said flatly from the corner. “You two know each other?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jihoon closed his notebook firmly, ignoring the red that was no doubt creeping up his neck. “We’ve only seen each other twice.” 

Silence fell across the room then, settling into the corners like dust. Naturally, Mingyu was the one to break it. 

“So, are you coming or not, Ji?” 

Jihoon hesitated. He glanced over at Mingyu, waiting expectantly. Then at Jeonghan, quietly gazing at Jihoon with an odd sort of look in his eyes. Jihoon felt a pang in his chest when he met Jeonghan’s warm stare. His heart, his mind was aching to say yes, but his pride was urging him to decline. 

“I’ll come.” Jihoon said before he could stop himself, feeling his heartbeat start to accelerate as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Mingyu brightened visibly, and Jeonghan smiled. He smiled. Jihoon felt all gooey inside, and it was a weird feeling, so he distracted himself by fussing about his workstation. 

**

The three boys made their way to a local cafe, one that was located on the end of the studio’s street. Jihoon had never been, opting for the fast food restaurant next to it. (He was unhealthy, whatever. His job was to make music, not maintain a good diet.) But, he supposed, this was the start of a new experience.

It was a quaint little place, a breath of cool air in midst of a hot, bustling city. Jihoon found the tiny heart-shaped chairs cute, though he would never say so out loud. From the ceiling, small plants hung from small pots, leaves spilling out of the container. The interior was made solely of wood and stone, the fans spinning slowly to cool down the customers in the lazy heat.

Mingyu chose a table for them in the corner of the room. Jeonghan sat down next to Jihoon, and the three of them ordered quickly and calmly. Jihoon surprisingly didn’t feel too weird for the first part of it. 

The conversation, composed of mostly Mingyu and Jeonghan’s comments about the cafe, lulled immediately after receiving their food. Quiet background chatter and the clinking of forks against plates were the only sounds falling across their table. Jihoon turned to look at Jeonghan, whose profile was silhouetted against the sunlight streaming through the window. Heavenly. Pink.

Jeonghan caught Jihoon staring, chopsticks raised halfway to his mouth. Jihoon, feeling oddly ashamed, turned back to face his plate with red cheeks. 

Mingyu was busy shoveling his food into his mouth, paying absolutely no attention to the other two. Jihoon hated him for that, because now he had to pretend like he didn’t find the silence awkward, and like he didn’t keep sneaking glances at Jeonghan. All of which were almost noticed by the latter, too. 

But Jihoon hated Mingyu even more when he scraped the last bit of whatever-the-fuck off of his plate, and prompted to stand up. Clumsily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Mingyu loudly announced that he would be going to the restroom. And quick as a flash, he left, leaving Jihoon alone with Jeonghan.

Jihoon suddenly felt all too aware of how close they were sitting, arms and legs nearly touching. He also began to notice the stare that was drifting over his own profile, paired with the bright summer light.

Jeonghan put down his chopsticks suddenly, with a loud clang, and cleared his throat. Jihoon, although very much taken with Jeonghan and his whole concept, felt mildly annoyed at this. Was this some kind of intervention or something?

“I heard you’re a composer.”

Five words. Five simple words, and Jihoon felt as if his heart had stopped. They weren’t anything special or extraordinary at all, yet at the same time, they _were_ both of those things. Jihoon didn’t know why, but they felt like there was something underlying in the meaning.

Jihoon nodded simply. 

He didn’t know what to respond with, and was seriously thinking it over, before accidentally blurting out, “What do _you_ do?”

Jeonghan laughed. He laughed, and it was Jihoon’s first time hearing Jeonghan laugh, and he felt completely engulfed in pink. He had just gotten used to Jeonghan’s blindingly bright smile, and here he was, feeling extremely, personally attacked. 

Jeonghan’s eyes turned into crescents, cheeks reddening brilliantly, head thrown back. He seemed to relax, slumping in his seat, dangling an arm off of the back of his chair. 

A smile still present on his glowing face, he replied, “I’m an idol! You didn’t know?” 

Jihoon shook his head, feeling completely unsurprised. Someone as charming and pretty as Jeonghan would make the perfect fit for an idol.

“Really?” Jeonghan said incredulously, eyes widening almost comically. “Not to brag or anything, but I’m kind of a big deal in the music scene.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, surveying Jeonghan slowly. He observed the long coat, the elegantly tousled hair, the lips that looked pinker than ever, the eyes as round as the moon. Everything about him screamed superstar, definitely, so of course Jihoon expected him to be a bit arrogant. After all, if you had the looks, and apparently talent, that Jeonghan possessed, it’s only natural that you would be a little proud of yourself. But there was still a part of him, a small part, hoping that Jeonghan wouldn’t turn out to be just another cocky idol. 

“I’m joking!” Jeonghan added quickly, seeing the obvious upset look on Jihoon’s face. “I’m not famous at all, I only debuted a few months ago.”

Ah. Of course. Jeonghan wouldn’t be like that.

Jihoon just nodded again. There was a time in his life when he’d wanted to be just like Jeonghan, his love for singing blindingly bright. But the harsh realities of trainee life came crashing down on him, and he threw it all away in order to compose instead. 

Regardless of whether or not Jeonghan was joking, an air of light tension settled over the table. Jihoon looked away from Jeonghan, his chest feeling oddly tight whenever they locked eyes, choosing instead to favor the scene outside of the window. People were bustling around on the busy road, mothers pushing strollers and students scurrying to class. Tall buildings rose in the distance behind them, emphasizing the smallness of Jihoon’s world. 

“I wonder where Mingyu is?” Jeonghan tried to start a conversation again.

Jihoon didn’t trust himself to look away from the window, so he continued observing the city and its people causing commotion outside. The only indication he made that suggested he had heard Jeonghan was his response, a quiet and gruff, “I bet he’s abandoned us to stuff food in his face somewhere.” 

Jeonghan laughed. Jihoon immediately whipped his head around, his breath stuck in his throat. It was just as beautiful as it had been the first time, like a scene ripped straight from the pages of a novel. 

“You know,” Jeonghan said, “You don’t talk too much, but I think there’s something interesting about you.” 

Jihoon’s eyes caught Jeonghan’s, and he felt his heart stutter. Jeonghan’s eyelashes curled outwards prettily, tiny smudges of makeup ringing his eyes. Remnants of a past night’s stage, perhaps. Or maybe Jeonghan put on makeup just for fun, Jihoon wouldn’t know. A rose colored feeling drifted over him, tangling him in a moment where only the two of them existed. Funny, how they had been strangers up until that very morning, and yet here they were, having lunch just like old friends. (Slightly awkward old friends, but that’s besides the point.) 

Cheeks warm, Jihoon stuttered out a small, “Thanks,” before averting his gaze. He stared intently at the plate of food in front of him, eyes focused on the lumps of the rice while his ears enjoyed the warm pink melody of Jeonghan’s voice.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

“What’s there to tell?” Jihoon muttered, absentmindedly swirling his chopsticks around his plate.

Jeonghan’s arm draped across the back of Jihoon’s chair, fingertips just grazing the side of Jihoon’s shoulder. 

“Do you have any interests? Hobbies? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?” Jeonghan’s voice sounded like it was dripping honey, his words oozing out of his mouth slowly but sweetly. Pink honey? Weird.

Jihoon shrugged, stomach feeling oddly fluttery amidst the coral haze enveloping the two of them. “I like to sing.”

Jeonghan leaned forward after Jihoon spoke, fingers now pressing lightly against Jihoon’s shoulder. 

“Really?” 

Nodding, Jihoon reached out to shakily scoop up some of his rice, nearly spilling it out of sheer nerves. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way, when all he was doing was having a simple conversation during a simple lunch. 

He stuffed the rice in his mouth, all too aware of Jeonghan’s piercing stare tracing its way across Jihoon’s face. Once he had swallowed, he found himself speaking again, completely out of his own accord.

“I used to want to be like you.”

The fingers on his shoulder pressed down more firmly.

“Like me?” There was curiosity laced in Jeonghan’s voice, curiosity not too different than poison. Curiosity is what killed the cat, or in this case, made Jeonghan fall in love with Jihoon. (But that part comes later.)

Jihoon, overcome with a sudden surge of confidence, looked at Jeonghan straight in the eye, gaze unwavering. The pink cloud around the table only seemed to grow foggier, but Jihoon didn’t mind. 

“An idol.”

Jeonghan’s fingers crept further up Jihoon’s arm, coming to rest neatly in the crook of his shoulder. It felt oddly intimate considering the two barely knew each other, but Jihoon didn’t feel any urge to push the other away, so he didn’t.

“Did you?” Jeonghan said prettily. “Why didn’t you, then?”

“Being a trainee is hard.” Jihoon stated simply, thinking that the waves of Jeonghan’s hair weirdly resembled the petals of a flower, or perhaps the waves of the ocean.

Jeonghan nodded. “Ah. I get it.”

“Especially when you’re not as beautiful as the other trainees.”

Jeonghan’s hand dropped from Jihoon’s neck. “What?”

Jihoon chose not to respond, staring at the point right beside Jeonghan’s ear, where a dent in the wall was conveniently located. 

“Jihoon? Do you think you’re not beautiful?”

The dent was very perfectly shaped, Jihoon thought. A small circle right in the smack dab middle of the wall. A nice place for a dent. He continued to remain quiet.

Jeonghan huffed, and moved his head so that he was now directly within Jihoon’s line of sight. “Jihoon. You are an extremely beautiful man, trust me.”

Jihoon fought the urge to bit back a scowl, and lost. “You don’t have to flatter me.”

“I’m not flattering you!” Jeonghan gently placed his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders. Jihoon bristled a bit at the sudden touch, but held still otherwise. Jeonghan’s warm eyes bore straight into Jihoon’s, rose clouding his vision to the point where he almost couldn’t even see.

“You know, I bumped into you on the street that one day, I thought to myself, _wow, what a beautiful man!_ We had known each other for a little over a second, but I already thought you were gorgeous! It’s not just flattery, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon felt quite like he had been immersed inside with flames, because his face suddenly felt hot and his insides felt funny, like flames twisting and turning all about. He was thinking up a response, something witty yet dismissive, something that would showcase him as grateful without being _too_ nice, when the spell was broken.

Mingyu had plopped back into his seat, rattling the table effectively. Jeonghan’s hands were no longer on Jihoon’s shoulders, Jihoon’s stomach fell back into its normal state, and the pinkish atmosphere had suddenly vanished. 

“What was that?” Mingyu smirked a bit when he said this, the little asshole. “Some kind of intervention between you two?”

Jeonghan laughed again, and Jihoon just couldn’t get used to the sound. 

“Just shut up and pay for our meal.” Jihoon growled, and Mingyu complied all while grinning knowingly and waggling his eyebrows at Jihoon.

The three exited the cafe, made their way onto the busy street, and went back to the studio without much hassle. Jihoon was preoccupied with thoughts of his conversation with Jeonghan, and barely registered Mingyu and Jeonghan waving him goodbye as they entered the recording rooms.

Jihoon wrote more than just one new song that night, and Jeonghan started coming by nearly every day after that.

**

Jeonghan and Jihoon got along surprisingly well, after that. No mention was made about the whole “you’re beautiful” thing, and Jihoon was satisfied to let it slip away. 

Most days, Jeonghan would come into the studio, grab Mingyu and Jihoon by the arms, and drag them to their designated cafe for lunch. He would sit down next to Jihoon every time, their same spot at their same table, and it made Jihoon feel like he was in a recurring dream. 

Mingyu, though he annoyed the hell out of him, had a knack for softening Jihoon up and making him smile. Jeonghan did, too. There were many days when Jihoon was grumbling because of work, unleashing all kinds of insults and curse words, but Jeonghan didn’t judge him. He just sat and listened, and would pat his back affectionately afterwards. It made Jihoon feel nice, even nicer than when Mingyu would joke with him. A special kind of nice, a pink kind of nice.

The color pink is connotated, practically dripping with, hidden meanings of love. That was only fitting, considering Jihoon was pretty sure that’s how he felt regarding Jeonghan. In love, that is.

(He had come to Soonyoung with this problem during one of his breaks. Soonyoung had laughed at him for nearly five minutes straight. “ _You?_ In _love?_ Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” And Jihoon had promptly scowled at him, hit him lightly on the shoulder, and walked away.) 

But the fact was, Jihoon was absolutely feeling okay. He was writing more love songs than ever, churning them out quicker than he ever had in the past. The lyrics just seemed to flow out of his pen, swiftly and easily. And when he did write them, Jeonghan was always stuck in the back of his mind. If that wasn’t love, Jihoon didn’t know what was.

**

Things progressed rather quickly after that. 

It was now nearing fall, the leaves starting to slowly change colors. The world was painted a crispy orange-brown shade, the leaves and grass and sky mellowing out from such a hot summer. The wind blew against one’s face softly, and it was a common occurrence in Jihoon’s household to start falling asleep by the the fireplace. Jihoon’s favor of oversized sweaters was beginning to creep back, now that it was sweater season.

The first day Jihoon wears one of these sweaters is the day when Jeonghan first kisses him. 

It was a chilly day, the temperature finally dipping low enough for it to be considered appropriate to wear a cozy outfit. Jihoon had dug an old favorite out of the closet, a worn-out grey sweater about a size too big. The shirt had seen many years, had been through many memories, but certainly not any as momentous as this.

Mingyu hadn’t been in the studio today, busy promoting like the busy idol he was. Jihoon was immersed in a song he was working on, head bent down while he scribbling out lyrics furiously. 

The door swung open.

Jihoon looked up, eyes greeted by a beautiful sight. Jeonghan was wearing the same oversized coat he’d been wearing the first time they went out for lunch together, the same pair of glasses framing his eyes delicately. Jihoon was used to the pink feelings that always drifted in along with Jeonghan, and today they seemed more apparent than ever.

“Hey, Jihoonie.” Jeonghan said, resting his elbows on the counter. He propped his head up with one hand, shooting Jihoon a sweet smile, who flushed at the nickname. 

“Don’t call me that.” Jihoon’s gaze had returned to the computer in front of him, and he fiddled around nervously with some of the settings.

Jeonghan laughed. Jihoon’s heart jumped in his chest.

“Coming to lunch?”

“Mingyu isn’t here.”

“I know.”

Jihoon looked back up at Jeonghan. There was something hidden in Jeonghan’s eyes, something Jihoon couldn’t detect. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it remained there firmly, tinting the pink aura with a little bit of something else. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you out to lunch, anyway,” Jeonghan said. “By yourself, I mean.” 

The dots in Jihoon’s brain connected momentarily, then flickered back into static. Had he heard Jeonghan correctly? Was that a _date_ he had been proposing?

Jihoon didn’t respond right away, which was pretty characteristic of him. He looked out at the window, at the orange world around them, enveloping this small area of pink in the studio. He saw a couple walking by, holding hands and laughing. Was that a sign?

“I’ll go.” Jihoon said, without trying to stop himself.

Jeonghan shot him a radiant smile, and offered a hand to help Jihoon from behind his desk. Jihoon grabbed it, fingers tingly as they touched Jeonghan’s. His hands were soft. Pink. 

Only Jeonghan kept a firm grip on Jihoon, even after they’d left the studio. In fact, they held hands all the way to the cafe, Jihoon’s face feeling extremely warm. They only disconnected when Jeonghan pulled away to sit down, this time across from Jihoon.

Jihoon observed Jeonghan as the other scanned the menu, and ordered his regular meal. The sun outside was dimmer than it had been during summer months, but it illuminated Jeonghan just the same: beautifully. Jihoon asked for his own meal without even opening his menu. 

Jihoon can’t really remember the details of the meal. He remembers that Jeonghan smiled a great deal more than Jihoon had ever seen him do in the past, and that Jihoon felt infinitely happier than he did on regular days. He remembers doubling over with laughter because of something Jeonghan said, something stupid and silly, and that by the time he stopped, his stomach hurt and his cheeks were sore. He remembers the sun shining in Jeonghan’s eyes, turning them a goldeny brown that rivaled all of the planets in outer space. But he doesn’t remember what he ordered, or what they talked about. 

The thing that stands out vividly in his mind, however, is what happened on the walk back to the studio.

They were holding hands again, a produce of Jeonghan’s doing. Looking anywhere besides Jeonghan, Jihoon was watching the leaves flutter slowly off of the trees to land gently on the ground. Everytime he took a step, it felt as if his breath was getting caught in his throat. That’s just how strong of an effect Jeonghan was having on him.

Jihoon was consciously aware when Jeonghan stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, so he stopped too. The wind swirled around them, but oddly enough, it felt as though time was standing still.

An unsettling, unfamiliar feeling lodged itself in the pit of Jihoon’s stomach, as he kept his eyes glued to the ground in front of him. 

He felt, rather than saw, Jeonghan reach out and tuck a curl of Jihoon’s hair behind his ears. He felt, rather than saw, Jeonghan grasp his hand in his. He felt, rather than saw, Jeonghan gently place his fingers on Jihoon’s chin, and lift his head up so he was staring Jeonghan square in the eyes. 

The feeling in his stomach had transformed into a whirling mass of _want,_ a want to pull Jeonghan in and hold him tight as the autumn leaves fell around them. 

“Jihoon,” Jeonghan’s soft voice broke the silence, his fingers still lingering on Jihoon’s jawline.

“I-if,” Jeonghan stuttered. “If, hypothetically, I were to kiss you right now,”

Jihoon wasn’t really aware of himself inhaling a sharp breath, but he heard it, and he also saw the light in Jeonghan’s eyes waver a bit. It was then that he realized Jeonghan’s hand was shaking, trembling ever so slightly against Jihoon’s face. 

“What would you do?” Jeonghan whispered, his breath nearly getting lost in the wind and flying away. “Hypothetically, of course.”

How does one respond to a question like this? Was Jihoon supposed to kiss him senseless, like the feeling in his stomach was telling him to, or should he wait, because how could someone as radiant as Jeonghan like someone like Jihoon, who was bland and boring? 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jeonghan’s. There was something about them that Jihoon couldn’t bring himself to look away from, a hint of desperation shining through the confident facade of his irises. A lot of things about that were similar to Jeonghan, Jihoon noticed. He put on a front like he was confident and carefree and always happy, and while he certainly was those things, that wasn’t all he was. He was real, and raw, and human, too, someone worth writing a million love songs about in the cold, seasonal depression of winter. He was someone who you couldn’t turn away from, because he was honest and captivating, especially when he did dumb things like emerge from the hot forest in the middle of summer, looking as if he’d just been dragged through the scorching temperatures of hell itself. He was someone who could slip into your life easily, so quietly that you wouldn’t even notice him creeping up on you, until you were in love and too scared to admit it. He was someone who, when you were confronted with him in the middle of a season where everything is beginning to die, he was the light glowing and keeping everything alive. 

The last straw, for some reason, was the wind blowing a tiny, green leaf into Jeonghan’s hair. Jihoon doubted Jeonghan felt it, because he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at Jihoon as if he was the only thing that mattered to him right then. It contrasted sharply with the brown and orange colors of everything around them, only adding to the brightness that was Jeonghan. It seemed a lot like a sign from Mother Nature, and who was Jihoon to ignore something like that?

So he exhaled slowly, and looked at Jeonghan with such intensity that Jeonghan flushed, and said, “Why don’t you do it, and find out?” 

And so, along with all of the autumn leaves, Jihoon’s expectations got caught in the wind, and were blown away as quick as a wink.

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be a lot longer than it actually is but i was hit with writers block in the middle of it & really struggled writing the ending so :/ yeah. but comments r always appreciated!!!! ( pleas leave some i have many crops to water)


End file.
